Finale
by microlm
Summary: Oneshot, Akane Centric: What begins must end, and you have evaded the ending for far too long already.


A/N: I dunno why I keep righting all these serious-business fics, it's kinda weird. It almost makes me feel depressed. I really need to write a happy fic. Experimenting again, this time with a very casual style. Pretty bare on descriptions since I really wanted to keep this short.

---Finale---

A crowd has gathered at the foot of building complex. Gathered to watch as the building which once housed the Katsuragi Yako Detective Agency falls to the ground in a heap of dust. Of course, it hasn't been known as that for years now, decades even. You aren't sure; the past years have all been a monotonous blur. Dimly, you wonder if Yako's child is down there trying to stop the demolition, or even present at all. Actually, you aren't even sure if the child is still alive. You aren't sure of a lot of things; that however, you are sure of. Funny how that works out.

It isn't like the old days where an enormous ball of steel would swing into the buildings sending showers of debris everywhere. That had happened a long time ago to this place, when an electronic man ran amuck in cyberspace; but the building had continued to stand. There is no chance that it will continue to stand today. No, nowadays, demolitions are much more advanced than they once were and do the job right every time. Little devices are placed in each corner of the building, and when activated, a beam would shoot out in all directions within the building and vaporize everything. Quick and easy. Nice for clean up too, since all it leaves are ashes. Of course, there is the little problem of making sure no one is _inside_ the building while the detonation occurs. That problem has been taken care of; no one alive is within the building.

But, they have forgotten someone, haven't they? You are still here, shivering and retreated as far into the wallpaper as you can go, as though that will somehow keep you safe. No, they didn't bother trying to get you out of the building because you are already dead.

Have been for years, as I'm sure you know. You were alive once during the first acts. Bright and hopeful, right out of university. You had just crammed your way through six grueling years, putting aside fun and games for until after education was finished. Your parents were so proud of you, weren't they? After all, you graduated top of your class _and_ you were the youngest. Finally, you were ready to experience life, since all the years before that consisted of: one, preparing for a good college; two, getting into a good college; and three, graduating with honors from said good college. Academia must've been a bore, but you felt that it was worth it the moment the diploma went into your hands. Your future was filled with possibilities and seemed to stretch on for a good length. You had all the time in the world, it seemed, to finally do all those things you hadn't.

Then…then those men came. Construction workers by the looks of it and roaring drunk. They must've been having a really bad day since they assaulted a poor, innocent passerby heading to a nearby restaurant to celebrate her graduation.

That was you.

No one was around when they cornered you, and they themselves weren't exactly 'all there' either. All that was present were screams and shrieks right out of a horror movie, although of course, it was real life. Which only made the cries all the more charged with terror as reality is often much scarier than fiction.

They…

Your mind automatically blocks the memories from flooding back in and you curl up into a knot. You don't want to remember. It's alright; having to go through with it once is bad enough, remembering ever bit of it over and over again is pure torture. So ignore and forget and turn from it; you have every right.

Well, after you were dead, those fools finally began to sober up, and they were shocked by the unmoving, mutilated body that lay before them. So what to do except hide it? Their job provided a handy place. Your body was tossed into the cement mix for a wall and put into place as casually as could be. It still bulged a little, but the workers managed to cover it up with wallpaper before anyone could discover what they had done.

Did you ever wonder if they felt any guilt? Did you ever think about getting revenge? Too late for that; they're dead by now.

You could've gotten it before, if you had decided to leave your body. Evil spirits and haunting or whatnot. That would've (and should've) been the finale right there. But you didn't do that, you refused to do that. Even when the Reapers came for you, you turned them away, stubbornly clinging to what was left of your body. The Reapers began to use force and drag you away, but still you held on desperately. You weren't ready to go on yet. So much was left undone and you wanted to do them, somehow or another. All those years you looked forward to, that you put off…

Eventually, those Reapers gave up and left you alone to do whatever you pleased.

Which wasn't much. You had no control over your body anymore, it being sealed in concrete and all. Your hair, however, had only a _very_ fine layer of cement which, after a month or so, you managed to break through. You took control of that instead and severed the ties between you and your body besides the necessary ones to keep you bound to the living world. Your excuse was that you couldn't move it, but truth is, you just didn't want to feel it rotting away, huh? Didn't want to feel anything at all as the bacteria claimed what was once yours.

So, your play was extended beyond what was written for it.

You couldn't do much at that time, having only enough energy to hang on to the living world with a physical container but not enough to move. It's not as though you were a particularly powerful spirit. So you hung there, on the wall, unmoving.

People noticed you, but they didn't care. The first group that occupied the room was a group of yakuza men. They weren't very high up, just debt collectors, extorters and the like. A dead body in the wall didn't disturb them much; after all, you were pretty sure they had done a fair amount of killing in their lives. Besides, calling in the police would be a hassle. It was rather horrifying for you, having first row seats to the dirtier side of the world you had never seen. Really, those yakuza had no mercy. You wanted to help their victims (who sometimes were at fault themselves), but of course, you couldn't move. Beatings, among other things, flashed before your line of sight regularly and all you could do was watch. Sometimes, they screamed. Screamed and screamed with no one to help them.

The people there conflicted with each other too. The vice-president of their little group just couldn't wait to become president and decided to speed up the process by killing the then office holder. He was decapitated with a thin string of wire. Shocking really how much damage a piece of wire no thicker than a strand of your hair can cause. The then president's head slid right off and body slumped against the table. His head was still slightly open from the conversation he had been holding with his killer just moments before. Most of the blood dripped thickly down the edges of the table from the base of the head, but a few drops had splattered onto the surroundings. A few fell on you, and you couldn't even tremble in terror.

Was that not Hell? Surely, going on would've been easier.

That act ended with the sudden appearance of a high school girl and a freak in blue just three days after the murder occurred. The murderer was settled comfortably into the ruling chair of the company. Somehow, an agreement was stuck that should the girl discover who killed the former president, she would gain ownership of the office. The girl pointed the stand-in president out as the criminal and he was forced to abandon his comfy chair. The rest of the company was chased out by the man in the blue-suit when they wouldn't agree to their end of the bargain.

Of course, you couldn't really call him a 'man'. He was a demon who apparently ate mysteries. With him, he brought miasma. The demon, named Neuro, was often in the newly made office of Katsuragi Yako's (that was the girl) Detective Agency and thus, you were able to absorb the bits of miasma that drifted over to you.

The miasma was a blessing. It gave you enough energy to move your hair freely and even your body, though with much difficulty since it was, after all, stuck in concrete. Still, you focused your consciousness into your hair and only re-entered your body when absolutely necessary; the feeling of being a skeleton sent chills down your now usually non-existent spine. Eventually, they noticed your presence and somehow or another, you became their secretary in exchange for hair care from Yako. It felt nice to be cleaned; dried blood really felt disgusting no matter how many years pass.

Certainly, it had never passed your mind during university that your multi-lingual and mathematical abilities would be used in office consisting of a girl and a demon. Yet, those times were happier and livelier than _life_ had been; and you were dead!

Yako became something like your best friend even though you could communicate by writing or simple gestures. She spoke with you and treated you as though you were actually alive and not a corpse. Sometimes, you nearly forgot that you weren't alive; being hair seemed so natural. And besides that, she took you out of the wall that had been a cage for so long. Attached to her cellphone or a book or even Yako herself, you saw the outside world again. Most of all, you didn't have to be a bystander unable to help anymore. You didn't have to feel useless.

It was just little things, ranging from normal secretary work to helping Yako keep up her grades. Occasionally, you even saved lives (again, attached to Yako).

There was a finale to that act of your life in death too. Neuro had to leave; he would've died if he didn't. So back to Hell he went.

You were worried. Would you be left alone again? But, Yako, always Yako, was there to save you from that. She kept the office open, continued to take you into the world and mingle with those you should've stopped mingling with a long time ago, and she continued to be your friend. As a parting gift (or perhaps he just forgot), Neuro had left one of his demonic batteries on you which allowed you to continue moving even after he and his miasma left.

He came back one more time, three years later. Again, 'life' had become a whirlwind. It was exciting, faces new and old greeted you ever day, and some peculiarly interesting. There was never a need to worry about tomorrow and whatever it may toss at you; there were just the hectic instants of 'now'.

Then…gone again.

It calmed a bit then, although not by much since Yako _was_ a famous detective after all. Still, the rhythm became less erratic and settled into a nice, comfortable pace. The years passed, you still clingingly to the hair.

Yako had a child, a little boy, and you watched him grow from a toddler barely able to keep the balance between his large-by-comparison head and his diminutive-by-comparison feet to a child whining about the unfairness of school. He lived a normal life; one that wasn't expected of a child of such a famous detective. Indeed, Yako never told him about Neuro or you. Of course, whenever he left his severely confusing homework near your desk, he would sometimes find that it had magically finished itself, perhaps with a piece of candy laying on top of it. He simply accepted your desk to be magic and you continued to spoil him in little ways just like the doting aunt you always wanted to be.

You didn't mind that Yako kept you a secret; you could understand why. True, her life was thrilling and there was rarely a day she felt bored; but her life was also of psychotic humans and grizzly deaths. She embraced it, but her son might not have been able to accept it as easily as she. Also, it could hardly be called safe.

Yako died. Murdered. Her body was hacked into pieces and sent piece by piece to various family members and friends. Her life was of psychotic humans and grizzly deaths, it's no surprise her death was of them too.

You didn't go to her funeral; you couldn't. No one knew you existed anymore. You could move, but what was the point? You could do nothing. Not even comfort a poor little boy who often came running into the office wailing for his mother. Revealing your existence to him might've ensured that you wouldn't be lonely, might've allowed you to go out into the world again, but you didn't, because doing so would mean dragging him into the world Yako wanted him to have no part of. You weren't selfish enough to do that. So, you watched as he cried his eyes out, knowing that a piece of candy magically appearing could do nothing to ease his grief.

Didn't you feel useless? She had done so much for you, and in the end, you couldn't help her at all. You felt yourself dirtying and going insane from the silence broken only by the sobs of a little boy (and even that was growing far in between).

There was no Yako to save you anymore.

Was that not Hell? Why didn't you go on? Surely, that would've been less painful.

You waited in the now perpetually empty office. The years all blurred together until you couldn't keep track of them anymore. You continued to hope that Neuro would return. Somehow, if he did, you believed that Yako would come back and that you'd be happy again. Everything would reset and you'd be able to repeat your favorite parts.

But, he never came back. Nothing will be here for him if he ever does. The workers down there are yelling for the crowd to move away. The detonation is about to begin.

_Three._

Don't be so afraid. Don't cling anymore. You always knew that this would have to come eventually. What begins must end, and you have evaded the ending for far too long already. Your story wasn't meant to be stretched out this long and everyone is waiting for it to finish. They're waiting for you too. You won't be lonely.

_Two._

So, why don't you let go before your body is turned to ashes? I doubt that it would be very painless.

Still, you decide to put off the finale for just a little more. This was the place you stayed in for so long and you will go with it.

_One._

You uncurl from your knot.

* * *

In a flash of light and a shower of ashy debris, the curtain falls as the finale finally arrives. The set is destroyed to ensure that no encore will be given. The tired actress leaves the stage to join her fellow actors backstage.

The play has ended and it won't be produced again.

But, one day there'll be another, perhaps with the same actors. After all, what begins must end and begin again.

* * *

A/N: Short and bare. Not my best work, but whatever. Maybe I'll revise it one day or something.


End file.
